


Choose For Happiness

by Advocaat



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5844790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Advocaat/pseuds/Advocaat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We'll be together,” he'd said with light in his eyes, radiating such joy, like someone had taken the world from his shoulders and handed it to him. But it's already been one year and the new world has yet to live up to anyone's expectations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this story over from FFnet. This version will be slightly more polished. (Very slightly.)

_To the new world, filled with promises._

 

Prologue: Best to let dead gods lie.

 

Inside a small, cold shack deep in the mountains, next to a single, cracked window dyed rose with fresh blood, Hope smiled.

His smile was pleasant even though his gut churned. The happy future he'd wished for with all his heart and soul was being snatched away from him once again right before his eyes. One might, at this point, even be able to say as usual. Dear, but he was no stranger to adversity. It was almost funny in a completely ironic sort of way. He sort of wanted to laugh. He wished he could. 

The large, smartly dressed man standing before him frowned at his expression. “I wonder if you understand the situation you're in, Mr. Estheim,” he stated coolly, adjusting his dark tinted glasses with a finger. He looked as though he'd learned how to dress by google image searching 'shady crook'. 

Hope's eyes flicked around the inside of the cabin, first to the frosty, blood smattered window, then to the moth-eaten carpet where two men lay dead, their broken bodies bleeding through the material to drip down into the cracks between the ancient floorboards, and finally to the remaining two men who stood guard at the door, their impassive faces trained strictly ahead, not displaying even the faintest interest in the scene before them. 

His gaze returned to the man in front of him. “What you want isn't something that I can give you,” he said simply. 

The dim light of the cabin reflected briefly off the man's glasses as he shifted his neck slightly. “That would be unfortunate news for us were it the truth.” 

Hope's gaze didn't waver, even as the shaded man stepped forward and knelt before him so that they were closer to eye-level. He could see his own breath puff out across the floor from where his chin dug into the stiff, old rug and it momentarily clouded his view of the man's shaded face. The sharp knee keeping his body trapped against the floor pushed down harder at the man's change in proximity. 

“However,” he continued, “our organization has already confirmed your ability to complete the task I've just finished explaining to you.”

This time Hope really did chuckle. This guy was clearly off his rocker. There was a limit to foolishness. The man's expression hardened at his laughter, and Hope awarded him with his most charming smile as he brazenly stated, “Go to hell.” 

Pain flashed through Hope's skull as the man kicked him hard in the jaw with a polished, black shoe. “Put him under,” Shades ordered the person keeping Hope incapacitated. “I don't want to deal with him right now and I'd rather not lose any more men.”

There was an affirmative noise from the man on top of him, and then Hope felt a needle prick the inside of his elbow. _No!_ He violently jerked his body, trying to dislodge his captor. The shaded man pulled a sleek black pistol from inside his suit jacket and trained it on Hope's face. “Don't struggle or I'll shoot.”

Hope laughed humorlessly and continued to thrash. There was no way Shades would kill him. No, Hope was too crucial a part of their plans. The two men guarding the door rushed over just as he managed to throw his captor off, drawing guns of their own. _So boring. The weapons of this world are so boring,_ Hope thought as he grabbed the man who'd been holding him by the front of his shirt and threw him into Shades. 

A shot rang out as the impact of the collision caused Shades' finger to tighten on the trigger. Hope utilized the ensuing confusion to tackle one of the guards and take his gun. He swiftly repositioned it in his grip and fired a bullet cleanly into the thug's skull. The guard dropped like a sack of meat and Hope raced for the door without sparing a second look at the man he'd just killed. 

There was another shot and Hope felt a bullet glance off his collarbone. He staggered but didn't fall. If he fell now, he'd be finished. With startling precision, he swiveled around and fired at the second guard. Blood splattered across the floor and the cracked window shattered as the bullet's trajectory took it through the man's throat and out into the frozen night. That made four men now whom Hope had stolen lives from this night. So much for a fresh start. 

Hope yanked the door to the shack open and darted out into the woods, immediately thankful for the cover of the trees as more shots rang out behind him. Soon, he would be free. Soon. He just had to shake the rest of that man's goons, and then everything would be okay. He could work things out from there. 

* * *

Hope didn't know how long he'd run. He didn't stop until he'd long since ceased hearing sounds of pursuit, and he thanked his long legs and regular exercise routine for that. He staggered over to a tree, breathing hard, and leaned his uninjured shoulder against it. He felt his eyes droop and let out a curse. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a filled syringe and removed the cap. Carefully, he lowered the tip to his arm and injected the clear fluid into his bloodstream. Thank God for foresight, he thought as he tossed the now empty syringe away. The shot would counteract the tranquilizer Shades' goon had given him. _On second thought, let's not thank God,_ he amended. _He's the one who got me into this mess_.

Hope slid to the ground, panting. He clutched his shoulder and hissed as pain zinged down his left arm. At least it wasn't his dominant arm—thank the cosmos for small blessings. Still, he needed to get the wound treated and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to do that. He was stuck out in the mountains in the dead of winter with no clue how to get to the nearest town, much less home, and he was positive those men hadn't given up their search for him. No, not raving zealots like them. 

He looked up at the dark sky and smiled wryly. “Bhunivelze...” he muttered, addressing the heavens. 

If only he could forget that name. If only he could be done with gods and plots. If only he could just live in peace. “I can't shake you, can I? I'll be fighting you for the rest of my life.”

There was no reply and Hope was almost disappointed. 

He closed his eyes, and behind his eyelids an image formed. He saw Lightning in all her beautiful ferocity and his ears rang with her righteous cry. _In the new world, we won't need God!_

_No,_ he agreed, wrapping his arms around himself to conserve heat. _But that won't stop people from wanting one._

Shivering, he picked himself up and continued his trek in the direction his internal navigation sense told him that civilization was most likely to lie.


	2. Run for Home

_You said we would be together._

Chapter 1: Run for home.

Lightning groaned and lowered her forehead to the counter beside a half filled tumbler. Serah had come down the stairs earlier to fetch a glass of water and, upon discovering her sister still awake and seated at the island in her kitchen staring off into space, the younger Farron had sympathetically poured her a drink. It had been over twenty-four hours now since they had learned that Hope was missing and another twenty-four before that since anyone had seen him last. Lightning hadn't been overly concerned in the beginning, but after the second day of hearing that he hadn’t shown up for work, the worry had begun to creep in. Hope was fastidious in his work ethic. One unexplained absence was already highly unusual, but two was downright unheard of. Moreover, ever since everyone had been reunited in the new world, Hope had never gone a day without contacting one of them.

Lighting had tried to search for clues, but so far her search had come up dry. Hope wasn't at home and there were no signs of foul play in his apartment. She had called his parents, but they had been just as clueless. Apparently they hadn't heard from him since the week before. Nobody at his work had any answers either. They were all in a state of panic at his disappearance, as none of their projects could proceed without him. It was unlike Hope to go off on his own without telling anyone, and he surely wouldn't have left his assistants at the lab on their own with no warning, so Lightning could only conclude that either he'd gotten into some kind of accident somewhere, or...

 _Or he's been kidnapped,_ she thought, surprising herself at how quickly her mind jumped to that possibility. She could only assume that instincts left over from the old world were to blame. But who on earth would want to kidnap Hope? Sure, he was a great researcher with a lot of influence in the scientific community, but it wasn't like he was in a position of power the way he'd been in the old world. _...Yet,_ she tacked on mentally, because at the rate that he was gaining the interest of his peers he was certainly on the road to becoming so. In any case, what could anyone hope to gain from kidnapping a researcher?

Try as she might, she couldn't figure it out. Without a motive, she had nothing to go on. No clues to follow. It was beyond frustrating. Snow, Sazh, and Noel had joined her in the search, but their luck had been no better than hers.

Another thing about Hope's disappearance was troubling Lightning as well, and that was his behavior up until his vanishing. For the past couple of months, Hope had been acting somewhat peculiar, she'd thought. He seemed more stressed and he'd been acting less open with her. With all of them, really. He'd been spending less time with them and more time either at work or at home with his projects. The others chalked it up to his workaholic nature, but Lightning had the oddest feeling that he was avoiding her. It wasn’t that they'd had a fight or that anything in particular had happened which might cause him to distance himself from her—that she knew of—but she could feel a tension in the air between them that had never existed before.

Lightning thought back to the last time she'd seen Hope. She had gone to his work after getting off duty for the day—she recalled it had been a particularly grating patrol, made worse by the presence of a male deputy she wasn't immensely fond of. She'd thought of pulling Hope from his research for a couple hours to have dinner together, but when she'd arrived at the lab, one of his assistants, a small-ish, brunette girl named Melan, informed her that Hope was going out to eat with his team that evening. Feeling somewhat disappointed, Lightning had left without bothering to inform Hope of her visit, however, she was able to confirm his presence there at that time, as she'd peeked through the small viewing window into the room where he'd been working.

That had been the night before the first day that he'd failed to show for work. Based on that, Lightning determined that the most probable window for his disappearance fell from when he'd left work that night to just before he was scheduled to return to work the next day. Of course she'd immediately gone and questioned his team after she learned of his vanishing. They all claimed that he'd been with them until around eleven P.M. that evening but that was the last anyone had seen of him.

Lightning sighed and turned her head so that her cheek now lay against the smooth surface of the countertop. Somehow, she just couldn't shake the feeling that this was her fault. If she'd just been more attentive, more active, more... _something_ , Hope wouldn't be MIA. She felt as though she'd failed him as a partner. Again.

She sighed and picked her head up. _Get a grip, Farron. There isn't even any proof that something bad has happened to him._

But if there were, that would at least give her a trail to follow. Right now she had nothing, and that's what really bothered her.

* * *

 _Hope's body ached. Every step Lightning took jostled him uncomfortably, but he wasn't about to complain. He much preferred this over being left as a meal for the hungry gorgonopsids roaming the plains. More than that_ _,_ _he didn't want to be any more of a burden on the tired soldier whose back he was currently weighing against. If there was one thing Hope hated, it was being a burden_ _on_ _Lightning. He hated it more than his own pain. If only he were stronger.... His promise to protect her meant nothing if he still had to rely on her to this extent._

“ _Hang in there, Hope,” Lightning called softly back to him. “We'll be able to rest soon. I'll fix you up after that.”_

_Hope wanted to argue; to tell her not to worry about him and just focus on regaining her strength. She was in no condition to be casting any cure spells right now, and she wouldn't be until she'd had several hours' solid rest. However, all he could muster was a nod that she may or may not have been able to feel._

_It was around twenty minutes later that the two of them chanced upon an uninhabited cave, and Lightning just made it inside before collapsing onto the cold cavern floor. Hope caught sight of her bloodied back and winced guiltily._ _“I'm sorry..._ _I bled all over your uniform,” he apologized._

_Lightning rolled onto her side so that she was facing him. Her face was pale and she was breathing hard from the exertion of carrying him for so long when she was already worn out from fighting and lack of sleep. “Don't worry about my clothes. Just worry about yourself. Unlike you, this uniform can be replaced.”_

_Hope's guilt didn't fade. “Light...” he started, pushing through his pain to move his arm enough to brush hers with his fingertips. “I'm sorry. I'm a nuisance.”_

_Lightning cracked a half smile. “Stop apologizing for everything. You're not a burden. I've told you that already.”_

“ _But...” he protested. “You're always having to look out for me, and—”_

“ _Hope,” she cut him off, “I don't have to look out for you. I chose to. I'll always be looking out for you. I'll always be doing everything in my power to keep you safe.”_

_Hope clenched his hands into fists. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Couldn't she see that he didn't want to just be protected by her? “But, Light...”_

_A warm hand closed over his fist, silencing him. “Go to sleep, Hope. Healing you tomorrow won't do any good if you're too tired to keep moving.”_

_As much as he wanted to protest, to tell her how he really felt, Hope clamped his mouth shut and obeyed. Words were useless anyway. He would need to prove to Lightning through action_ _s_ _that he could stand on his own; that he didn't want her to see him only as a child that needed her protection._

Hope opened his eyes and pushed himself up from the ground with a groan of pain. He had to keep going. He'd been stopping to rest far too frequently. At this rate, he would be found and dragged back to God knows where to be propositioned by Captain Suit n' Shades and his gaggle of gunslinging religious nuts. They had already nearly caught him once when he'd stumbled upon an unpaved mountain road. He'd just barely been able to duck out of sight behind some bushes as a vehicle bearing the same winged serpent symbol he recalled seeing in pin form upon the organization's leader's breast drove past.

If only they hadn't confiscated his phone, he lamented. If he could just contact his friends, they'd be able to locate him and then rescue him from these seemingly endless woods. He was sure they'd noticed his absence by now. Certainly Lightning at the very least would’ve— _No,_ Hope thought, shaking his head. _She has her own life now. She's not going to come running every time you get yourself into trouble anymore._

The new world was meant to be a new start for all of them. It was supposed to be a place where they could live out the lives they were denied in the old world without worry. Was peace too much to ask for after everything they'd done? Hadn't they earned it?

Hope resumed walking again, though he had to pause every so often to push branches out of his way and step over bushes. His clothing was covered in needles and sticky sap from the trees and his body ached from the cold and from his bullet wound. This was not how he'd envisioned spending his weekend.

 _Right, because you had so many plans,_ his brain taunted him. Had he the breath for it, Hope would've sighed at his own mind's helpful reminder that, kidnapped and lost in the mountains or not, the new world wasn't exactly living up to its promises. What would he be doing right now if he weren't here? Working late alone in the lab? Or would he be working late alone in his apartment. _Living the dream, Hope._

While everyone else was busy living the lives they'd always dreamed of, somehow he had looped back around to fill the same tired role that he had in the old world; endless hours of researching and planning and building to keep his mind off realities that might destroy him if he let them take hold in his mind.

Hope's sagging eyelids opened fully when the ground beneath his feet abruptly transitioned from lumpy earth into hard concrete. He blinked and looked around, trying to make out his surrounding in the dark. The moonlight dimly illuminated a burnt out lamppost and a bench, and a little further, a ledge, beyond which Hope could infer lay train tracks. Somehow he had chanced upon a train platform. An old one, by the looks of things.

A station, whether it was still in operation or not, could only mean that civilization was near.

Hope cast his gaze around the abandoned platform, looking for anything that could be of use to him, and his eyes fell upon a nondescript black box; not anything that would normally register in an average person's mind in this day and age, but to Hope it was a like shining beacon in a terrible storm. A smile split his worn features and he burst into a jog, his long legs carrying him to the payphone in no time at all. He picked up the receiver and nearly cried in relief when his ears were assaulted by the old, obnoxious shrill of a dial tone. He thanked his lucky stars once again that his captors hadn't been interested in his wallet.

With barely a thought, he inserted whatever change he could find into the machine and dialed the first number that entered his mind; a number he knew better than his own. He held his breath as ringing played through the speaker and he counted the chimes in his head. _Three, four, five..._ Just as he started to think his call was going to be picked up by the answering machine, he heard a click and a tired voice answer, “Lightning Farron speaking.”

Hope nearly dropped the phone in his relief. “Light,” he exhaled, letting his tired legs fold until he was sitting on the concrete.

Lightning's voice immediately switched from tired to urgent. “Hope!” she called back through the receiver. “Where on earth have you been? Did something happen? Do you have any idea how worried everyone is about you?” Her voice crackled over the speaker and it was honestly the most beautiful sound Hope had ever heard.

“Listen, Light, I got into a bit of trouble and I could really use some help,” he said, smiling into the piece of plastic that was his lifeline at the moment. As much as he hated the thought of having to be saved by Lightning yet again, right now he wanted nothing more in the world than to see her face. That would do wonders for his crappy weekend.

“Of course!” she responded, and he could hear the determination in her voice. “Where are you?”

“Somewhere in the mountains,” he replied. “At an old, possibly retired train station called...” he cast his gaze around looking for a sign or anything that would give him a name. His eyes found a laminated timetable sheet still hanging near the phone box and he squinted at it, trying to read the faded words in the dark. “Horton,” he read. “Horton Station.”

Lightning sounded equal parts stressed and relieved as she said, “Right. Just stay there, okay? I'm going to come find you.”

“Sure. But Light, there's something you need to—” He was going to warn her about his pursuers, but he didn't get the chance, as right at that moment a bullet shrieked past his head and embedded itself into the phone box, cutting off the call. “Shit!” he swore, scrambling to his feet and looking around for the gunman.

Movement caught his eye from the tree line and Hope deftly pulled out his stolen pistol and fired at the shadow. Guns were never his forte, but a thousand years of experience with ranged weapons had honed his aim and reflexes, and Hope wasn't surprised when a pained grunt and a thud followed his shot. _Five people. Sorry_ _about this_ _, Caius._

The shooter wasn't alone, unfortunately, as Hope learned when two more suited figures stepped out of the shadows, both wearing glinting serpent pins and holding rifles. Hope swallowed and trained his gun on them, slowly backing away. Two against one wasn't good. _Easy, Hope. They won't shoot to kill,_ he reminded himself.

As much as he was loathe to cut short more lives today, Hope knew he wouldn't stand a chance unless he took them out. They clearly recognized his skill as a marksman, as they were hesitating; likely concluding that if one of them fired, they may not make it out alive. Hope banked on that as he carefully changed the trajectory of his weapon, a plan forming in his head.

A shot cracked through the air, catching Hope completely off guard. One of the men had defied his expectations and fired. Pain blossomed in his chest and he dropped to his knees, his whole system going into shock. Slowly, he lowered his head to look down at his chest. A tranquilizer dart stuck out through his shirt, the tip firmly embedded in his flesh. Coming to his senses, he sprung into action, ripping out the dart and whipping his right hand back up to fire two shots at the men, cleanly felling both in a split second. Unfortunately for him, this tranquilizer was far stronger than the one they had administered before and spots were already clouding the edges of his vision. Hope didn't even have time to curse before his sight blacked out and he fell to the pavement, unconscious.


	3. Out of the Fire

_But for what does a man need God?_

Chapter 2: Out of the fire

“Snow, stop the car,” Lightning commanded as they pulled up to the station her phone's GPS identified as Horton. She didn't even wait for the large man to fully comply before abandoning the vehicle and racing over to the platform, flashlight in hand. It had taken roughly forty minutes to reach the station from Serah and Snow's place and Lightning could only hope that they'd made it in time.

She flashed her light across the platform and her pulse quickened at what she saw. Two large, bloody stains on the cement, a busted up phone, and no Hope in sight. She looked at the blood and swallowed thickly. _Please don't be his,_ she prayed silently.

Snow joined her a moment later, stopping short as he took in the scene. “Oooh boy,” he remarked in a low voice.

Lightning ignored him and studied the scene, looking for any clues as to where Hope might have gone. The station was quiet and empty, save for them. There were no noises to indicate that anyone else was still in the area. She flashed her light around regardless, just in case someone was hiding out of sight, but she caught no whisper of movement beyond the gentle rustling of tree branches.

Silently cursing, she pointed her light back at the carnage on the platform, and that's when her sharp eyes caught several dark blotches leading away from the main puddles. “Look there!” she said sharply to Snow before hurrying over to get a better look.

“Seems whoever—or whatever—it was left us a trail,” Snow observed, pointing his own light in the direction the droplets led.

“Great. Let's go,” Lightning said, already following the droplets. She clenched her jaw as she swiftly moved along the trail. It seemed her earlier concern had been warranted after all. Hope was clearly being targeted by someone, although to what end she hadn't the foggiest.

The blood path became harder to follow once they entered the woods, but Lightning didn't falter. Hope was depending on her and she'd be damned if she let him down. She picked up her pace, darting over the underbrush as she tracked her target with the singleminded determination of a bloodhound. Snow followed close behind, jaw set and eyes trained straight ahead. Lightning knew that Hope had become like a brother to him and nobody got between Snow and his family.

Roughly ten minutes into their chase, Lightning's trained ears picked up the sound of voices from up ahead. Not wasting any time, she reached for her standard issue glock and broke into a sprint right for the voices. “Oy!” she called out as three men wearing black suits came into view. All three of them, she noticed, were sporting an extra body. “I'm Sergeant-major Lightning Farron of the YPD! Stop where you are and put your hands in the air!”

Instead of doing as commanded, the men swore and broke into a run. _Oh, no you don't!_ Lightning raised her gun.

A hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her. “Don't worry, Sis. I got this,” Snow called as he sprinted past her, a large grin on his face.

True to his word, Snow charged in like a wrecking ball, merrily sending each of the three men flying with his large fists. In a matter of mere seconds, the men, along with their human luggage, were brought down, leaving the ground littered with bodies. Lightning's gaze zoned in on a head of moonlight colored hair amidst the carnage and she rushed over.

“Hope!” she cried as she lifted the unconscious man's shoulders, taking in his pale face and clammy skin. “Hope!” she called again, slapping his cheek several times in quick succession. “Come on, wake up! Hey!”

Hope remained unresponsive, his head falling back and lolling to the side limply.

“Dammit!” Lightning swore. Only then did she notice his bloodied shoulder and her own blood ran cold. “Snow!” she cried, grabbing the blond man's attention. “Hope is injured! We've gotta get him outta here!”

“On it!” the big man called, abandoning the other men who were now in various stages of picking themselves up and fleeing the scene. Snow jogged over to her and immediately scooped Hope up in his arms with a grunt. “Damn! This was a lot easier back when you were a kid, kid,” he told Hope's unconscious form. Then, to Lightning, he asked, “What about the other guys?”

“Forget about them. I'm more concerned about Hope,” she said, turning back the way they had come. “He needs a doctor, _now_. Let's go!”

Not wasting any more time, the two of them hurried back to the station, both praying that their friend would be alright.

* * *

Lightning called Serah as Snow drove them out of the wilderness and toward the nearest hospital. When they arrived, Hope was immediately taken to intensive care and Lightning and Snow were left in the waiting room, much to both their frustration.

The waiting room was a large, spacious area full of chairs and magazines, but no other people save for the two of them. In the wee hours of the morning, the hospital was even creepier than it probably was during its normal hours of operation. Lightning had never liked hospitals. They brought back memories of the weeks she'd spent watching her mother slowly die of illness. Back then, she’d practically lived in hospitals; her and Serah. She always thought maybe that was what caused Serah to give up her dream of becoming a nurse.

Beside her, Snow stretched with a loud groan and then fell into one of the chairs. “First it’s go, go, go! And now it’s wait, wait, wait,” he complained, stretching out his legs.

“That’s how hospitals are,” she informed him, settling her back against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.

Lightning thought they might lapse into silence after that, but she forgot who her company was. “Well,” Snow said with the air of someone about to make a big announcement. “That sure didn’t take long.”

“What didn’t?” she asked, not picking up on his meaning.

Snow let out a short chuckle. “I mean we’ve only been in this world for what, a year? And trouble has already found us again.”

Lightning sighed. “Looks that way,” she agreed. Perhaps it was inevitable. Adversity clung to their group like Snow to the word ‘hero’. Whatever had lead her to think that would change just because they were in a new world?

“So,” the big man said, folding his hands over his stomach, “Who do you suppose those guys were? The ones trying to carry Hope off. Something tells me they weren’t our friendly neighborhood watch.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Lightning agreed, tightening her fingers around her upper arm. “I’m guessing they’re reason Hope’s been missing for two days.”

Snow exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck with a serious expression. “So you think those people kidnapped him?” he asked, moving his hand to thread his fingers through his hair. “Makes sense. Except…why? I mean, why Hope?”

Lightning narrowed her eyes and glared down at the tiled floor, her mind buzzing from that exact question. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She looked up at Snow then, and in a low, menacing voice added, “But I’m going to find out.”

* * *

It was another twenty minutes before the doctor came in to inform them of Hope’s condition.

The doctor was a surprisingly youthful looking man with light brown hair and a serious face. He pulled a ballpoint pen from the breast pocket of his white coat and used it to make a few marks on his clipboard before looking up at them. “I’m assuming you’re family or friends of Mr. Hope Estheim,” he stated. There was nobody else they could be, after all.

“Friends, yes,” Lightning confirmed, watching the doctor levelly.

The man nodded and made another mark on his clipboard. “My name is Dr. Paul Laurent. I’ve been placed in charge of Mr. Estheim’s care for the duration of his stay here at Valley Cross Hospital.”

Lightning and Snow both nodded.

“Let’s see,” Dr. Laurent continued, looking down at his papers. “Mr. Estheim was brought in with a gunshot wound to his collarbone as well as trauma to the head and multiple light abrasions on his arms and legs, likely from running through a heavily wooded area…” he trailed off as he flipped to the next page. “His condition is currently stable, however he appears to have suffered an allergic reaction to an as of yet unidentified tranquilizer…administered via a dart, as indicated by a puncture wound on his chest.”

“Allergic reaction?” Lightning repeated. “What do you mean?”

The doctor let out a short sigh and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “It means his body reacted negatively to one or more of the chemicals in that dart. Your friend is currently in a coma.”

Lightning’s jaw went slack and next to her Snow cursed.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Laurent assured them quickly. “We expect him to awaken within the next day or so. There’s no cause for alarm at this time.”

Lightning exhaled in relief. For a single, horrifying second she thought that Hope wasn’t ever going to wake up again and her heart had nearly dropped out of her chest.

“But it’s a very good thing that the two of you got him here when you did,” Dr. Laurent continued. “Had you been much later, Mr. Estheim’s prognosis would not have been so good.” The man seemed to look right at Lightning when he said this and the certainty of his statement struck her like a hammer. He hadn't said ‘might not have been so good’, he'd said ‘would not’. As in Hope’s life had been in serious danger tonight and nobody had known. If she and Snow had stopped to chase those men, would Hope still be with them now? How close had they come to tragedy?

Lightning’s anger at whomever had taken Hope exploded into outright fury. How dare they lay a hand on Hope. How dare they drug him with weird tranquilizers! What if he’d died? What if he’d fallen into a coma and never woken up? How would she live with herself?

How would she live without him?

Lightning’s fists clenched hard enough to make her bleed, had she not been wearing gloves. She was going to find whoever did this and she was going to make them pay. They were going to wish they’d never so much as heard the name Hope Estheim.

“Thank you for your trouble, Doc,” Snow said next to her. “We really appreciate it. If something had happened to that kid… well, I’m just really glad it didn’t.”

“Of course,” Dr. Laurent said with a nod. “We’ll continue to monitor him overnight. Rest assured that if anything should happen, not that I’m expecting it to, but if something does, we’ll know.” He placed his clipboard under his arm then and gestured at the reception desk. “Please see our receptionist, Amélie, for details concerning visiting hours and, later, discharge protocol.”

Lightning nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. Truly.”

Dr. Laurent's expression softened and he bowed his head slightly. “We’ll take care of him. I don’t know what happened exactly, but if you need to contact the police, there’s a phone through that door.” He gestured across the room to a blue door bearing the words ‘Call Area’.

Snow let out an amused chuckle and Lightning cracked a smile. “Thanks, but I am the police.”

Dr. Laurent raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He seemed to consider something for a moment and then he asked, “Then would Mr. Estheim happen to be a fellow officer?”

Lightning’s smile fell from her face. “No,” she answered. “He’s just a guy who draws the short straw a little more often than most.”

* * *

After the two of them left the hospital, Lightning got straight on the phone to report Hope’s case to the YPD. She spent the next hour describing what few details she knew about his kidnapping to several different people within the branch. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning by the time she finished, and by then her adrenaline from the incident had long since worn off. She was almost temped to take the next day off work except that work was exactly the place she needed to be to follow up on Hope's kidnapping. Like hell was she giving the case over to some greenhorn just so she could get a few extra hours’ rest.

So it was that the next morning she marched into the Yaschas City Police headquarters the same as any other day, but with a pair of fresh bags under her eyes and fiery determination on her face.

“Sergeant-major Farron,” her boss greeted as she walked through the door. “Good morning. You look a tad dark under the eyes today. Rough night, I heard.”

Lightning saluted respectfully. “Yes, Captain. I'm assuming the details of last night's incident were relayed to you already.”

“They were,” Captain Amodar confirmed. “I was told you found your friend.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, still in her salute.

Amodar smiled warmly. “That's excellent news. I know how much Hope Estheim's disappearance was weighing on you.” He leaned forward then and his face adopted a scolding expression. “But Farron, you really should have reported the call and waited for reinforcements before going in. You know that what you did is a violation of protocol.”

Lightning's face tightened. “Sir, there was no time to wait for backup. If I'd spared even a moment, Hope might be dead right now.”

Amodar leaned back in his seat and nodded. “Yes, I heard about his condition in the report.” The captain looked around briefly as if making sure nobody was paying attention to them and then beckoned her forward. When she was within range, he leaned toward her and said lowly, “I'm not saying what you did wasn't the best course of action given the situation—because certainly it was—but try not to step out of line too often, yes? You're a pretty hot topic around here and you don't want any marks on your record.”

Lightning nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir.”

Amodar laughed and leaned back again. “You know, you don't have to be so formal,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “We're not in the military.”

Lightning faltered slightly and then lowered her hand. “Sorry, sir,” she apologized with a small smile. “Old habits die hard.”

“Hm?” the captain questioned, looking confused.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

There was a moment of silence between them after that, which Lightning broke when she said, “Sir, if I may, I have a request.”

“What's that, sergeant?” Amodar asked. Suddenly there was a twinkle in his eye, as if he somehow knew what she was about to ask.

In her most professional tone, Lightning said, “I'd like to be put in charge of Hope Estheim's case.” Really, there was hardly any need to ask. Amodar already knew how important this case was to her, and there was no reason why she shouldn't be the one to lead it, but just in case... No point in risking it.

Amodar chuckled. “Ah, yes, I knew you'd ask me that.”

Lightning smiled at his response. “Then do I assume correctly that I have your consent?”

To her confusion, the large Capitaine de Police's expression sobered slightly. “Normally, yes,” he said, watching her steadily. “But I'm afraid this time I must decline.”

Amodar's response hit Lightning like a slap in the face. He was...declining her request? She examined his face, but the big man showed no sign that he was joking with her. “Sir?” she questioned, her heart feeling like it was sinking in her chest.

“Ah, please don't misunderstand,” he said quickly, waving a hand in front of him. “I'm not meaning to take this from you, Farron. You see, the paperwork for your commandment training went through last night. I'm not pulling you from the case—you can still be involved—but I'll have to place someone else in charge while you undergo training here at headquarters.”

Lightning's eyes widened. “Sir! You don't mean...”

“I do, Farron,” he said, his smile returning. “Congratulations. You're being promoted.”

If Lightning were any less of a soldier, she might have fallen out of stance in surprise. She was being promoted to lieutenant? Already? But she hadn't worked nearly long enough to be considered for that kind of promotion.

Amodar must have seen the surprise on her face, because he said, “You've earned it. You're more skilled and more disciplined than any other officer I've ever met, and I've been doing this for a _long_ time. I don't know how you do it, Farron, but it's like you have a thousand years' experience over everyone else in the force.”

At these words, Lightning cracked a smile. “Five-hundred and three years and thirteen days to be exact,” she told him.

Amodar blinked up at her from his chair uncomprehendingly for a moment and then a huge grin split his face. “Well, isn't this a surprise! The all-business Sergeant Farron has a sense of humor after all.”

Lightning let out a short chuckle. “Don't go telling anyone,” she joked.

Amodar shifted in his chair and pulled a slip of paper from the pile on his desk. “Farron,” he said in a slightly more serious tone. “I'm sorry that this promotion happened to fall during such a stressful time for you. I can't change the scheduled training dates, but I can assure you that you'll be informed immediately about anything our officers find during their investigation.” He held out the slip of paper and Lightning took it curiously. It was statement of permission for police admittance. “That's for you,” he continued. “Take it with you when you go to the hospital. I want you to question the victim when he wakes up.” The good captain embellished his instructions with a wink.

Lightning clutched the paper tightly and gave Amodar her most crisp salute. “Yes, sir!” More softly, she added, “Thank you, Captain Amodar.”

Amodar waved her off. “He'll be more open with you anyway. I'd be remiss in my judgement if I sent anyone else.”

Lightning gave her commanding officer a sincere smile. Amodar had always looked out for her; ever since she was first placed under his command in the Guardian Corps at the tender age of eighteen. That was lifetimes ago now, but the large, easy-going man hadn't changed a bit. For her to be placed under his care once again in the new world, surely the stars were looking out for her.

Just before turning to go, Lightning posed one last question to the captain. “If you don't mind me asking, sir, who will be put in charge of Hope's case?”

Amodar surprised her when he let out a troubled sounding sigh at her question. “Ah, about that...” he said, raising a beefy hand to rub the back of his neck. “I'm afraid the only officer not currently occupied with another case is Sergeant-major Guillory.”

Lightning stiffened at the name. Amodar saw this and added, “I know you're not especially fond of him, but he's a good, reliable officer, and I know he'll handle your friend's case with the utmost professionalism.”

Lightning nodded stiffly and turned to the door. “I won't let my personal feelings interfere with our cooperation on this case, I assure you.”


	4. The Cruelty of God

_Somehow we failed our only task._

Chapter 3: The cruelty of God

Lightning arrived at the hospital with a troubled mind. Not only was she unable to lead Hope's case due to commandment training, but the officer placed in charge in her stead was Lucas Guillory, a man she held little love for. True, the sergeant-major was a capable officer; it wasn't his skill she condemned him for. It was his personality.

Ever since the first case they'd worked on together, Lucas—as he insisted she call him—made no secret of his concupiscent designs for her. He was the kind of man who brazenly pursued women, and Lightning had received the misfortune of being selected as the object of his desire. Lucas was unashamed, but worse than that, he was smart. He kept his flirtation in the workplace tame enough to not be reportable as sexual harassment and he was a master of subtlety. He knew just how to play the game, and were she not so disgusted by him, Lightning might actually respect him for it.

Having Guillory in charge of the investigation meant that she was going to have to work with him more closely than normal, and honestly, Lightning didn't want to deal with the man right now. Hope could still very well be in danger. She didn't have time for games.

As a nurse led her to the room where Hope was being treated, Lightning's mind returned once again to his captors. The same question kept swirling around in her head. Why Hope? She wished her longtime friend and once charge would wake up so she could ask him. She couldn't imagine Hope voluntarily getting involved with shady people. Perhaps he'd published something that somebody didn't like? But it wasn't like he was researching anything of a sensitive nature. _That I know of,_ the thought crept unbidden into her mind.

What exactly was Hope researching right now? Now that she was thinking about it, the realization that she didn't actually know what he was working on came as a surprise to her. She _always_ knew. Hope used to discuss his projects with her frequently. When had that stopped, exactly? Just how long had this distance between them been growing? The fact that she hadn't noticed until now disturbed her.

The nurse opened the door and Lightning walked straight to the bed where Hope lay sleeping. _Not sleeping, comatose,_ she reminded herself. Guilt washed over her again as she gazed at his unconscious form. Hope was taken because she hadn't been there to protect him. Because she hadn't been paying enough attention.

Lightning hated seeing him like this, his pale hair and skin even paler against the sterile sheets of the hospital bed. His shoulder was bandaged where the bullet had pierced him and an IV was attached to his arm to hydrate him while he slept. According to the nurse, he was recovering smoothly. There were no complications during the night and the doctor expected him to awaken soon. Any time, in fact. Hell or high water, Lightning wouldn't leave his side until he did.

* * *

Lightning waited vigilantly by Hope's bedside all morning, only leaving once to use the restroom. Hope slept on, entirely unresponsive to anything she or the nurses did or said to him. It was disconcerting to see him so still. Hope had always been a fidgeter; the kind of boy whose active mind manifested itself through movement. Lightning used to watch him during moments of rest as he'd shift his weight from one leg to the other, cross and uncross his arms, fiddle with the yellow piece of cloth he always wore around his left wrist... Even when sleeping, he was in motion; twitching; rolling over; mumbling things. To see him lying still as death made her uncomfortable in its wrongness.

Serah joined her at the hospital as the clock neared noon. The younger Farron had been relieved when Lightning told her the night before that Hope had been found and was being brought home, but the news of his condition had hit her hard. She and Hope had become quite close during their time in the new world, and Serah had always been the owner of a caring heart. When Lightning had called her about her assignment on the way from the police station, Serah promised that she would take an extended lunch break to come visit them at the hospital.

A nurse brought an extra chair and Serah joined her by Hope's bed. The two of them talked at length, Lightning detailing the events of the previous night and Serah asking questions. Serah was just as baffled as Lightning about Hope's apparent kidnapping. “It just doesn't make sense,” she said, putting a finger to her lips contemplatively. “Hope is one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

Lightning crossed her arms and scoffed. “I don't think hurting him is what they're after. My bet is it's information they want.”

Hope was one of the most brilliant minds of any age. If someone were to want to kidnap him, surely it would be for...

Lightning's eyes widened and she uncrossed her arms, a sudden thought striking her. “They want him to do something for them,” she announced, the pieces coming together in her mind. “There was no ransom issued and Hope isn't the type to get on the wrong side of the wrong people, which can only mean that they seek to use him for something.” How had she been so blind? In all her guessing, she'd somehow missed the obvious answer.

Understanding lit in Serah's eyes and she nodded. “Of course!” She looked back at Hope and smiled softly. “I always forget what an important person he is.”

Lightning couldn't help but breathe a short chuckle at her sister's comment. “He is pretty unremarkable most of the time.”

Serah gasped and swatted her big sister playfully. “Sis, that's mean!”

Lightning turned away from her sister with a smile and looked at Hope fondly. To be honest, there was nothing unremarkable about the young man lying next to her. He was absurdly brilliant, amazingly talented at too many things, and even his looks were striking; pale skin, moonlight colored hair, jade eyes... Hell, even his personality was high level. It was no wonder he'd been so successful in the old world and was becoming the same in this one. “But we still don't know what they wanted from him,” she mused aloud.

Serah “hmm”ed soberly and turned back to Hope. She watched him quietly for several moments, then said, “It's strange seeing him like this. He's always been so strong.” She frowned and looked up at Lighting. “Hospital beds don't suit him. He should be the one in the white coat.”

Lightning gave her sister a smile. “He always was our best healer.”

Serah smiled as well, but it fell short of her eyes. “You know...” she started, then trailed off, looking back at Hope instead of her. She was silent for a brief moment, and to Lightning it appeared that she was trying to decide whether or not to continue what she'd been about to say. The older Farron wondered what was going through her sister's mind all of a sudden. Deciding to continue, Serah looked back at her and admitted, “Sometimes I'm a little envious of you guys.” She folded her hands in her lap and smiled down at them. “You all had this grand adventure together while I slept the days away in crystal. To be honest, I still feel like a bit of an outsider sometimes.”

Serah's confession didn't come as a complete surprise to Lightning. She'd suspected before that her sister had felt this way upon occasion. “You were never far from anyone's thoughts,” she assured her. She leaned forward and lifted Serah's chin, giving her a smile. “Everything we did was for you, after all.” With a smirk, she added, “Hope knew your name before he knew mine.”

Serah let out a short giggle at that. “Snow's doing, I'm sure.” She looked back at Hope and her expression turned pensive. “What was Hope like back then?” she questioned suddenly, surprising Lightning. “I only knew him briefly before he moved away after the fall. You were never that fond of kids, so I always kind of wondered.”

Lightning crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. She tilted her head back as she considered Serah's question. Honestly she hadn't thought bout Hope back then in a very long time. “He was young, scared, weak...angry,” she started, picturing those days in her mind. “Very angry. His world was falling apart and he needed an outlet.” She paused to scoff. “But he was a pampered rich kid from the suburbs. He didn't have any strength, he couldn't fight. He was a mess of misdirected rage and grief.” She looked at Hope's sleeping face fondly. “He had will, though. He told me he wanted to be strong more than anything.”

“I think I get it,” Serah said, and Lightning frowned at her in confusion. The younger woman gave her a knowing look. “He was exactly like you were after mom died.”

Lightning blinked at her sister and then turned her head and scoffed. “Please. I was never that whiny.”

Serah giggled and looked back at Hope. “Whiny,” she repeated. “Did you hear that, Hope? Sis is badmouthing you while you sleep!”

Despite knowing he was comatose, both women couldn't help the small pang of disappointment they felt when Hope didn't stir.

Serah reached out a hand and laid her palm on top of the blanket covering Hope's chest. Without looking up, she said, “Your description doesn't fit him at all. The Hope I know is strong and level-headed.” She moved her hand to his head and brushed his bangs aside with the backs of her fingers. “He's brilliant and kind,” she continued. “But you know, I've always thought he seemed sad.”

Lightning frowned. “Sad?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Like he has the world on his shoulders. Ever since I met him.”

Lightning said nothing and Serah continued. “He worked so hard. When I was traveling with Noel, I saw his tireless dedication to humanity and the world. He was like a father providing for his children. He made sure everyone was happy and taken care of and safe. I think he gave up a lot of his own happiness to do that.” She brushed his hair back again and then laid her hand on his cheek. “Sometimes I wonder if he was able to regain any happiness in this world.”

Lightning's mind returned once again to Hope's behavior of late. When she'd met him for the first time in this world, he'd been happy. She was sure of it. He'd never smiled so big as he did that day. She remembered clearly how he'd wrapped his arms around her, for once having to bend down to do so, and told her that he'd been searching for her for so long and how relieved he was that everyone made it to the new world safely and how nobody would ever be forced to leave ever again. “We'll be together,” he'd said with light in his eyes, radiating such joy, like someone had taken the world from his shoulders and handed it to him. Without a doubt, he'd been happy then.

But when she thought of Hope lately—how reclusive he'd been, how they rarely talked anymore, how hardly any of them saw him outside his lab or apartment, how distant he acted when he was with them... _He's not happy,_ she realized. The notion blindsided her in its obviousness. At some point that spark of light had left his eyes, and she had no idea when it had happened or why. _Some friend I am,_ she thought, guilt bubbling up in her chest.

A knock at the door drew both her and Serah's attention. A small, slender, brunette woman stepped into the room carrying a cheerful bouquet. She smiled when she saw them. “Serah, Lightning,” she greeted, walking over to them. “I see you beat me.”

Serah returned the woman's smile. “Melan,” she greeting back. Her eyes fell on the bouquet and her face lit up. “Those flowers are beautiful! Hope sure is lucky to have such a caring assistant.”

Lightning watched the exchange wordlessly, as she often did when faced with things like bouquets and well wishes and other such social niceties. That was her sister's area of expertise.

Melan had been Hope's assistant for about four months now. She was a friendly, attractive woman whose praises Hope sang often. Lightning knew the two of them spent a great deal of time together; mostly at work, but they'd been known to do things outside the lab as well. Logically, if something was going on with Hope, Melan would be the person to ask about it. However, Lightning was hesitant. She couldn't adequately explain why, but she preferred not to associate too much with Melan. Something about the woman's closeness with Hope made her uncomfortable. She felt like an intruder, and she didn't like that feeling. It was for this reason that she kept her interaction with Melan to only the shortest exchanges necessary to satisfy social politeness.

There was also the fact that while Hope was spending less and less time with them, he'd been spending more and more time with Melan. This perturbed Lightning more than she cared to admit. Before, Hope had always leaned on her. He'd gone to her with his troubles, his joy, his...well, everything. She and Hope had never stopped being partners. Their bond—their friendship—had always been strong, and she'd assumed it always would be. But now she could see herself being replaced by this perky, friendly, attractive girl who could speak to Hope in his own language; all the technical jargon and big words that scholars used and Lightning didn't because she'd never gone to college and the only jargon she knew was the military variety. Hope had never been much of a soldier and she had never been much of a scholar and really, what was keeping two such entirely different people together anyway?

Lightning looked down at Hope's sleeping face and felt a tug in her chest. He wasn't a lost little boy anymore. He was a grown man and he no longer needed her. Perhaps it was time for her to move on, too.

“It's about lunch time,” Melan's voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Have you two eaten yet? I can watch Hope if you want to get some food from the cafe downstairs,” she offered.

Lightning was about to protest that she'd rather not leave Hope and she wasn't all that hungry anyway, but Serah beat her. “That's a great idea,” the lavender eyed Farron announced. She turned to Lightning. “You've been sitting here all morning. A little break would be good.”

Never an adept at arguing with her sister, Lightning agreed and stood with a sigh. Perhaps a little lunch wasn't a terrible idea. Hope would still be here when she returned No use starving herself.

Serah gave Melan a little wave as they left. “Make sure he doesn't go anywhere,” she instructed with a wink as the door closed behind them, and the two sisters set off for the elevator.

* * *

  _It was strange being with Lightning again after so many years. So many centuries. He thought he'd have so much to say to her. He'd been anticipating the day he'd finally meet her again for ages, hadn't he? He remembered dreaming of her every night for countless days. He recalled lifetimes spent trying to bring her back. But now she was here and he felt nothing._

_He wasn't glad. He wasn't angry. He wasn't relieved. He wasn't anything._

_He remembered everything. Their adventures together; their friendship; that they were partners; that a man named Hope Estheim once loved her fiercely. But these memories didn't feel like his. They meant nothing to him. They were a past that gave context to his existence and nothing more._

_He looked at the couch where the savior lay sleeping. As usual, he waited to feel something. He didn't._

_The savior didn't need sleep. God had removed that weakness from both of them. But she still did it. She was defiant. She had always been that way. His memories told him that he had admired that about her._

_He stood from his chair and walked over to the resting woman. Perhaps if he studied her up close, the feelings would come. He stood over her and watched her breathe evenly. He watched her chest rise and fall and her eyelids twitch slightly from dreams—did she still dream? He watched for several seconds but still he felt nothing._

_He wanted to feel something. Practically his whole life he'd been telling himself that everything would be okay once Lightning came back. He should be happy right now. No, he should be ecstatic. It seemed wrong to not feel anything at all. Logically, he understood that his emotions had been taken from him, so trying was an exercise in futility, but at the same time, something inside him didn't want to give up. His memories told him that getting Lightning back was something he'd lived for. He couldn't let it mean nothing at the very end. The man named Hope Estheim wouldn't let things end like this, right?_

_He knelt down next to the couch and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you,” he said, testing the words on his tongue. They elicited no sudden spark of emotion. No great revelation. They were just words lost on a sleeping person and nothing changed._

_A frown tugged at his mouth. He didn't know where this determination came from, but he wouldn't give up yet. He leaned over the couch, balancing his weight on his hands and hovered over Lightning for a short moment. He wet his lips with his tongue and then lowered his head and very gently pressed his lips to hers. He closed his eyes and lingered there, feeling her warm soft lips on his, and listened to the sound of his own heart beating in his chest. He breathed in her light, clean scent; a scent that conjured up memories of her arms around him in Palumpolum and being carried, wounded and bleeding, on her back across the vast plains of Gran Pulse._

_And he felt nothing._

_It was in that moment that Hope truly understood the cruelty of God._


	5. Interrogation

_A rose in the hand of a god will be beautiful all the same and draw blood all the same._

Chapter 4: Interrogation

When Hope awoke, his nervous system swiftly alerted his brain to two locales of distinctly uncomfortable sensory stimuli. Firstly, the vicinity of his left shoulder ached like someone had shattered his collarbone with a hammer. That was the most immediately pressing of the two signals. Secondly, while not as _shit, shit, shit, that hurts_ painful as the first area of injury, the inside of his left elbow burned as if some horrible jungle bug had buried itself under the skin there.

Hope bit off a groan and squeezed his eyes more tightly shut as he gathered his bearings. Had the memories of what had transpired the last time he was conscious not begun to return promptly upon coming to, he might've thought he was waking up in a cave somewhere on the plains of Gran Pulse after a particularly nasty scuffle with the local wildlife.

After a moment in which much silent cursing transpired inside Hope's head, the young scientist cracked open his eyes and blinked blearily at his surroundings. Whiteness greeted him in every direction. Either he was in a hospital or he'd somehow been transported back to the Ark. He couldn't say that either possibility appealed greatly to him. Then he remembered the phone conversation he'd had prior to being put under by the gun-toting goons at Horton Station. He'd spoken with Lightning. She must've managed to find him in time before they could take him away, which meant—

A feminine gasp had him whipping his head around urgently until his eyes landed the figure of a woman standing across the room. “Light,” he called eagerly before his brain registered the numerous discrepancies between the woman in the room with him and the tall, commanding form of his one-time mentor. His face fell. “Melan,” he corrected, forcing himself to smile in order not to appear rude. “Sorry, I mistook you for Lightning.”

Melan smiled back and shook her head. “It's fine,” she responded kindly. “You just woke up. How are you feeling?”

Hope winced when she reminded him of his bodily trauma. “Been better,” he replied, forcing a chuckle. His eyes swept the room, searching for a familiar head of pink hair, but when he found none he frowned and looked back at his assistant. “Are you the only one here?” he questioned, trying not to sound put out. He appreciated Melan coming to see him, really, he'd just thought that Lightning's face would be the first to greet him and the disappointment at seeing someone else was heavier than he'd been prepared for.

Melan gave him a sympathetic look. “Just me for now,” she answered, coming to stand by his bed. She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone was really worried about you. When you didn't come in to work we all knew right away that something wasn't right.” She waited for Hope's acknowledging grunt before asking, “What happened, exactly?”

Hope sighed and brought his uninjured arm up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The movement caused a sharp twinge of pain to shoot through his collarbone and he made a mental note to avoid superfluous gesticulations for the next few days.

He couldn't tell Melan the full story but she deserved some kind of explanation for all the trouble he'd no doubt put her and his team through. Choosing his words carefully, he began to recite the story of his kidnapping. “It was the night everyone at the lab went out to dinner...”

* * *

“Farron!”

Lightning looked up from her conversation with her sister at the sound of her name. The two of them had just come from the cafe and were en route back to Hope's room when the call was heard across the busy lobby. When her eyes landed on the man walking swiftly toward them Lightning's lips thinned, forming a straight line. “Sergeant-major Guillory,” she greeted, her expression suddenly as barren as the Dead Dunes.

“Lucas,” he reminded her with a pleasant smile, entirely unaffected by her frigid response to his unexpected appearance. “I'm glad I ran into you. I just got here. Came to see if the victim was awake for questioning.”

“I'll just go on ahead,” Serah said, offering the sergeant-major a polite smile as she made for the elevators. She never was very comfortable in the presence of Lightning's colleagues, in the old world or new.

Lightning's eyes narrowed. “Questioning Hope is my job. I'm sure you were informed by the captain.”

Lucas' smile didn't waver. He was never one to ruffle easily, to Lightning's disdain. “I don't see why it can't be a team effort. You and I are partners in this case, after all.”

Lightning bristled at his use of the word partners—a word she reserved for Hope exclusively—but correcting him would mean admitting that he was technically the one in charge here and that she was really just being allowed to participate as a special case. Guillory knew this and was deliberately baiting her. For whatever reason, riling her up seemed to be a kink of his.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “Come if you want, but I think you'll find your time better spent elsewhere. Hope hasn't woken all morning.” She now found herself praying that Hope was in fact still asleep. She'd been hoping to question him in private where they could be honest with each other. She'd been more than worried about him these past few days and the last thing she wanted was for their reunion to be constrained by formality.

“Just a quick check in, then,” Guillory agreed, surprising her with his cooperativeness. He usually didn't give in so fast. “As you said, I do have a lot of work to do. Unfortunately, I will need Mr. Estheim's account before I can proceed with most of it.”

Lightning nodded, accepting the validity of this statement. Deciding that if he was willing to be cooperative she could be too, she motioned for him to follow. “He's in room 307. I'll take you there.”

* * *

Hope had to stop himself from casting his gaze to the door for the umpteenth time in the past fifteen minutes and focus on Melan, who was currently attempting to catch him up on what he'd missed while he was away. It wasn't that he was uninterested in what she had to report—far from it—the problem was that his mind was still unsettled by the absence of the woman he'd expected to see upon waking in a friendly setting. Of course he knew that Lightning had a job and responsibilities that took precedence over coming to see him, but subconsciously, he still had expected her face to be the one to greet him. The fact that she wasn't left him with a feeling that lay somewhere in the vicinity of confused and hollow. It was a feeling that dredged up the horrible, niggling question that had been muscling its way past his mental barricades for the past several months and only continued to get better at it:

Was it worth it?

All the years of suffering he'd endured at the hands of God; all the time and energy and bits of his own soul he'd put into fixing the world; building a planet and a fal'Cie; taking on everyone's hopes and despair; doing everything he could to keep up when the people he cared about had already left him behind; giving all of his love to Lightning, even when he had none to give; supporting her unconditionally and killing himself with silence because the world was worth so much more than him— _she_ was worth so much more than him...

_Was it worth it?_ In the end, did the payoff—that being his life in this world—match the price?

_It isn't just about you,_ he reminded himself, sickened by the selfishness of his thoughts. _You fought for_ everyone's _futures, not yours exclusively, and it_ did _pay off. Everyone is happy now. Everyone is where they're meant to be. There's no special award for being a decent human being. Life is what you make of it and if you're not happy, that's nobody's fault but your own._

He wanted Lightning to love him. He wanted to be with her forever. He'd foolishly bet everything in the hope of one day having a future where he could stand at her side. He'd stupidly gambled his heart with no contingency plan—set himself up to either win it all or lose everything with zero in-between. If Lightning didn't want the same thing as him, there was nothing he could do. Maybe he could try to move on. He could make the attempt. But he knew already that loving someone else wasn't something he was capable of anymore. He'd given Lightning his whole heart—bound himself to her with God as his witness. She could ask him to die and he would. She could ask him to forsake the world and he would. He would do anything for her. Anything but love somebody else.

_You talk a big game,_ his brain chimed in, _but did you ever try telling her what she means to you? No, you didn't. You assumed that everything would just fall into place for you._

Hope's eyes wandered to the door again. Still no Lightning. He tugged them back to his assistant.

It's true, he'd never told Lightning his feelings. Part of the reason was because, as he'd just so helpfully reminded himself, he'd held out hope that his happiness would unfold nicely and neatly in the new world; as if this second chance at life operated as an automatic reward system. But really, that was only an excuse. The reality was that he was a coward. He was scared of once and for all knowing the answer to that horrible, selfish question. _Was it worth it?_

“Hope, are you okay?”

Hope hadn't realized that his gaze had once again strayed to the door until Melan's question snapped his attention back to her. She regarded him with an expression of concern. “Do you want me to fetch a nurse?”

He shook his head. “No, I'm fine,” he assured her, flashing his politician's smile. “Out of curiosity, do you know if anyone else has been in to see me?” He tried his best to sound as if his sanity didn't hinge on her answer.

Melan nodded and her concern was replaced with smile. “Serah was in here until just a short while ago,” she informed him. “She left to get lunch with Lightning.”

Hope felt his chest tighten at the combination of Lightning's name and the ambiguousness of the wording. Did that mean Lightning here as well, or had Serah simply gone out to meet her?

“And now you're thinking about Lightning,” Melan remarked with a mock put-upon huff. She reached out a hand and poked him in the forehead.

Hope reeled back and offered his assistant a sheepish smile. “It's that obvious, huh?”

Melan rolled her eyes. “If you're not working, you're pining. If it weren't for me periodically dragging you out to be social you'd gloom yourself into a rain cloud.” She looked back down at Hope's face and her teasing expression turned serious. In a soft voice, she continued, “You've got to stop this, Hope. There are other fish in the sea, you know? I know you've got your heart set on Lightning, but is sacrificing your happiness by waiting for her really worth it?”

Hope couldn't stop himself from wincing. There was that damn question again. Hell if it wasn't getting harder and harder to answer positively.

“Maybe it's time you took a little break from her,” Melan suggested, laying a supportive hand on his shoulder. “A bit of time to yourself might help you clear your head. Refocus your energy.”

Hope frowned. Did his situation really seem that hopeless? Melan made it sound like he was better off giving up and she had only known him for four months. If that was how his chances looked from an outside perspective then he was in trouble.

For a moment, Hope allowed himself to consider Melan's advice. If his feelings for Lightning were merely infatuation, as she no doubt assumed, he might agree with her. In fact, he had been distancing himself from her, little by little, in an attempt to give her space and let her enjoy her new life without him weighing her down, but totally cutting himself off wouldn't do any good for either of them. Whether or not she returned his feelings, he was her friend. Lightning wasn't in the habit of maintaining a wide social circle; the few friends she had were precious beyond measure and he would never hurt her by withdrawing completely. He would just be throwing her trust in her face. Hope knew that he was the first person other than Serah she'd let into her heart since the death of her mother. Serah had told him so herself. He would be the worst man in this world and the last if he just up and abandoned her.

No. He needed to stop being a coward and tell her. _Stay with me forever._ That's all he had to say. Compared to everything he'd done in the old world, it should be easy.

The sound of the door opening caused Hope to snap his head around nearly fast enough to give him whiplash.

“Hope! You're awake!”

Serah's sweet face greeted him, her eyes shining with relief. She closed the door behind her and rushed over to Hope's bedside, sweeping him up into a hug. “Thank goodness! We were so worried!”

Hope's injuries protested at the enthusiastic show of affection but he accepted Serah's hug gladly, squeezing her reassuringly. “Serah,” he greeted, smiling through a curtain of wavy pink tresses. “Boy, am I glad to see you. I was starting to think I'd have to shack up with a new gang, and to be honest I don't think black is my color.”

Serah drew back to examine him with a critical eye. “How are you feeling? I can't even imagine what you went through these past two days.”

“Been better,” Hope confessed. His collarbone still hurt like a bad breakup and the ache in his inner elbow seemed to have spread upward to his shoulder. “But I've also been worse, so I think I'll pull through.”

Serah gave a fond little huff. “This is no time to be making jokes, mister,” she chided. She patted down his hair, probably just for want of something to do with her hands.

Hope smiled. “If you're here, then I'm guessing Light can't be far,” he prodded, though he tried to disguise it as an observation.

Serah's expression brightened. “Yes. She's downstairs in the lobby talking with another officer. I'm sure she'll be up any minute.”

“Another officer?” Hope questioned, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. “Then she's here on police business?”

Serah nodded. “Of course. You should know better than to think she'd give your case over to anyone else.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hope thought he saw Melan frown, but when he looked at her properly she just looked thoughtful. “The officer she's with...” she interjected, holding a finger to her chin inquisitively, “are they by any chance a blonde male in his mid twenties?”

Serah's eyebrows rose. “Well, yes, actually. Do you know him, Melan?”

Melan shook her head. “No, not personally. I've just seen Lightning with an officer matching that description on several occasions so I figured it was probably him.”

The corners of Hope's mouth tugged down unconsciously as he wracked his memory for such a man. Someone from the force who Lightning spent more time than usual with? His mind drew a blank. He'd never known Lightning to associate much with her colleagues outside of work.

Out of curiosity, he asked, “Has Light found anything out about the kidnappers? Was she able to arrest anyone?”

Serah shook her head. “No. Lightning and Snow apprehended them, but... well, you were in critical condition...”

“So they had to let them escape,” Hope finished for her, lowering his eyes to his lap in understanding. “I see. I'm sorry.”

Serah's eyes widened. “No,” she protested, waving her hands in front of her. “Geez, Hope. You can't apologize for that. You were _shot_ , for goodness' sake. Even without that weird tranquilizer there's no way Sis and Snow were going to put capturing some thugs over your safety.”

“But now tracking them down is going to be difficult,” he pointed out. “They'll have had plenty of time to clean up their tracks already. If Lightning and Snow had gone after them, then—”

“You'd be dead,” a new voice spoke from the doorway. “And what good would that have done anybody?”

Hope whipped his head around to see Lightning—finally, finally it was her—storm into the room wearing an expression that would make Cid Raines cry. But all Hope felt was relief as he smiled widely at her. “Light...”

Lightning crossed the room in a few short strides and pulled him into an embrace. Hope wasted no time in returning it, winding his arms around her and hugging her tightly to him. “Light, I'm s—”

“Save it,” she cut him off. She pulled away slightly to rest her hands on his shoulders and pressed a short kiss to his temple. It was something he'd only ever seen her do for Serah and the gesture spoke volumes about how concerned she'd been. Hope wasn't sure if this action was a good or bad sign for his prospects with her but he was too relieved by her presence to care right then. “I'm glad you're safe,” she told him with that old, familiar twinkle of fondness in her eye.

“Thanks to you,” he responded, giving her another smile. “I'm told your timing was impeccable.”

Lightning looked like she wanted to answer him but she was stopped by another voice from the door—the voice of a man Hope wasn't acquainted with but who apparently knew him.

“Mr. Estheim, I'm glad to see that you're awake.” The man was tall and young—mid-twenties by Hope's estimate—and blonde. And he was wearing a cop's uniform. This had to be the man Melan had just finished describing. When he spoke it was with an odd mixture of professional language and a laid back, easygoing disposition. “My name is Lucas Guillory; sergeant-major with the Yaschas City Police. I'm sure this will feel a bit sudden, but I have a few questions for you pertaining to the alleged kidnapping and illegal holding of your person.”

Lightning abruptly stiffened and pulled away, leaving Hope with the uncomfortable feeling of absence. He shook it off and remembering his manners nodded politely at sergeant-major Guillory and said, “Of course. I'll do everything in my power to aid the investigation.”

Guillory nodded and pulled a small tape recorder out of his pocket. He gestured at it. “Do you mind?”

Hope shook his head. “Please.”

“Alright.” The sergeant-major pressed a button and set the recorder on the table beside Hope's bed. “I want to start by having you to describe to me, if you can, exactly what you were doing at the time of the kidnapping.”

Hope frowned as he thought back to that night. “I'd gone out to dinner with some coworkers. We walked together from the lab where I work to a nearby pub. It's about a fifteen minute walk. We arrived at around a quarter past eight and stayed for a few hours. I imagine it was close to eleven by the time we decided to call it a night. After that, my team went back to the lab to get their cars but I hadn't driven that day so I decided to walk home from the pub. Melan here offered to call a taxi for me but I declined.” He shot a look at Melan and she nodded. “My apartment is about a forty minute walk from the lab if you take Dunes Road; subtract about ten minutes leaving from the pub. I'd estimate I'd walked about two kilometers when I was stopped by two large men wearing black suits. I was about to ask what they needed when one of them grabbed me. The other administered a tranquilizer, and when I woke up, I was in a cabin up in the mountains.”

Guillory had pulled out a notepad and was jotting down a few notes. “So you were accosted on Dunes Road near midnight on the evening of December 20th,” he said. “And you were alone?”

“That's right.”

Guillory nodded. “And did you have any contact with anyone else prior to the kidnapping?”

Hope looked down at the floor. “No.”

The truth was that he'd been thinking of giving Lightning a ring just before the incident. He hadn't talked to her in a while and had thought to give her a call under the guise of asking what Serah might like as a Christmas present. Serah and Snow were planning a party on Christmas Eve and Serah was the only person whose present he hadn't purchased yet. But right as he was digging in his pocket for his phone, the black clad goons had popped out. Now he wished he hadn't hesitated in making that call.

“When you woke up, were there other people there with you or were you alone?” the sergeant-major continued.

Hope frowned. “Other people? Well, there weren't any other captives, if that's what you mean, but the kidnappers were there with me. They'd tied me up and dumped me in a corner. They appeared to be waiting for someone.”

Guillory made another note. “Did the kidnappers say anything to you at that time?”

“No. I tried to talk to them but they refused to speak to me. They were pretty resolute about it.” Hope had of course tried to initiate conversation but aside from the leader, he never heard so much as a grunt from his captors. For Hope, who had a talent for talking himself out of just about any situation, their silence had left him feeling quite disconcerted.

“Were the men armed?”

Hope sighed mentally. Now they were coming to the part that he wasn't so keen on repeating to the officer. “Yes. They carried unconcealed pistols. I believe they wore them out as an intimidation tactic.”

Guillory nodded. “Is that how you were kept up until your escape?”

Hope glanced at Lightning and saw that she was watching him, listening intently to his account. He wondered what she was thinking. “More or less. I was kept like that for about a day. I was given food and a few chaperoned bathroom breaks, but otherwise I stayed in my corner. Like I said, the men seemed to be waiting for someone. I keep a switchblade on me, though, and while my captors weren't looking I used it to cut through my ropes. After that, I waited until an opportunity arose and late that evening when they took me for my next bathroom break, I managed to steal a pistol off one of them. The other tried to fire on me but I shot him. I shot the other man as well and attempted to flee the cabin but there were more men outside who had heard the shots and came rushing in. They subdued me and confiscated both the gun and my knife.”

Guillory looked surprised at this. “You stole a gun and shot the men who kidnapped you? Were the shots fatal?”

“They were,” Hope confirmed. “I shot to kill. I didn't want them calling for backup.”

The sergeant-major sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you killed two men. I wonder if you understand the consequences of manslaughter, even if the situation can arguably be spun as self defense.”

Hope chanced another glance at Lightning. Her expression was still unreadable, but he thought he knew what she was thinking. “Five men,” he corrected. “And I understand fully what it means to take a life.”

Guillory looked uncertainly at Lightning. He was probably wondering if Hope was some kind of psychopath. Of course, the sergeant-major had no way of knowing that Hope was referring to more than just the legal repercussions.

“Hope,” Lightning spoke up, not bothering to enlighten her fellow officer. Her tone was all business as she asked, “Do you know why they took you?”

Hope knew this was the question that had been at the forefront of her mind since the beginning. Why him in particular? With them, nothing that happened was ever coincidence. Unfortunately, that question was going to be a difficult one to answer. To a normal person, such as Sergeant-major Guillory and the Yaschas City Police, his explanation was going to sound completely crazy.

His discomfort must've shown on his face, because Lightning's expression softened. He shook his head and as subtly as he could gave her a meaningful look. As usual, she picked up on his intention right away and nodded, her mouth forming a sober line. They would talk more in depth later.

“Yes,” he answered aloud. “Eventually their leader showed up and he explained their... _grand plan_ to me.” He made a show of rolling his eyes as he said “grand plan” to emphasize the absurdness of it for the male deputy. It wouldn't do for the YPD to know that he'd actually taken his kidnappers seriously. They had no way of understanding the true gravity of the situation, nutty as it was. “Apparently they're a cult. They believed I could help them resurrect their god.”

Lightning visibly stiffened. Hope caught her eye again and gave her the slightest nod. A confirmation that yes, it was precisely as she'd no doubt guessed.

“They kidnapped to you to resurrect a god?” Guillory repeated, looking understandably bewildered. “Why would they think that you could do that?”

Hope shrugged as if he had no idea. “I don't profess to understand the curiosities of the mentally troubled.”

“Did this man mention how he expected you would go about doing such a thing?” the sergeant-major asked, sounding genuinely intrigued. Hope imagined his case was something of a novelty for the officer. Crazed cultists weren't your garden variety crook in this day and age.

Lightning was looking at him intently. He knew she wanted to drill him for more info but she couldn't let that on to her co-officer. Fortunately, Lightning was very good at not showing what she was thinking.

“I wish I could tell you,” he lied, shrugging helplessly again.

Sergeant-major Guillory seemed satisfied with his answer. He proceeded to ask a few more questions; mostly pertaining to the finer details of his kidnappers' appearances and the weapons they carried, and finally, Hope's escape, which Hope recounted in as much detail as he was able. When he was done, Guillory stopped the recorder and slipped it back in his pocket.

“Thank you, Mr. Estheim,” he said, shooting Lightning a look; to which she nodded seriously. “I'll be taking my team up into the mountains to see if we can't get a scent on these guys. If you remember anything else of importance, please call me here.” He jotted down a number on a fresh page in his notepad and then ripped it out and handed it to Hope.

“Of course,” Hope replied, folding the note and placing it on his bedside table. “I'll be sure to do so.”

Guillory nodded. “Then I'll be going. I've been told to report all my findings to Sergeant-major Farron here, so you'll be kept in the loop of our investigation. Please talk to her if you have any questions.”

Hope tried not to look too surprised. He knew that it was normally against regulations to involve civilians in police investigations, even if they were the victim of a crime. He couldn't tell if Guillory's statement was meant as a dig at Lightning's professionalism, or if he had somehow picked up on the bond of trust they shared and was simply acknowledging it.

After he left, Serah, ever the insightful one, hastily invited Melan to go down to the lobby and pick out some flowers for Hope's room, leaving the scientist and former soldier alone together.

Lightning didn't waste any time. She rounded on him the moment the door's latch clicked into place. “You knew someone was after you,” she stated frankly. Her tone wasn't accusing but Hope knew her well enough to tell that she was upset. “A knife, I can understand. But a fully prepped syringe of flumazenil is too happy a coincidence, Hope.”

Hope smiled. He was impressed that she remembered the name and nature of a drug he'd mentioned months ago and was able to make the connection so quickly. “Yes,” he answered simply. “I received an anonymous threat a few weeks back. Someone claiming that God would 'punish the traitor' and 'see his new world realized'. I knew right away that I was being targeted. I just didn't know where or when they would strike.”

Lightning narrowed cold, blue eyes at him. “You never said anything.”

Hope's smile fell slightly. “I'm sorry, Light,” he said sincerely. “I didn't want to tell you because Bhunivelze isn't your problem anymore. I didn't want to drag you back into it. And anyway, I had no proof that anything would even happen. It very well could've simply been an empty threat.”

Lightning's expression didn't soften. “Apparently it was serious enough to make you carry a knife and an anti-anesthetic.” She moved in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked seriously into his eyes and said, “Look, Hope. If it involves you, it involves me. There's no gray area; no buts or what ifs to get all tangled up in. As long as I'm your partner, your problems are my problems. I need you to be honest with me and tell me everything.”

Hope took Lightning's hand in his own and pulled it down to his lap. He played with her fingers absently as he worked out how to describe the situation to her. Finally, he sighed and said, “You know that my body was going to be Bhunivelze's vessel in this world.” At her nod, he continued. “And you know that he prepared my body for that purpose. He removed my imperfections and broke my resistance. He made me the perfect vehicle for his soul.”

He could see the dawning realization in her eyes. She knew where he was going with this. “You think— _they_ think that they can call Bhunivelze back by using your body. They somehow figured out your connection to him,” she concluded. “But they don't know that your body was destroyed,” she pointed out. “You're not his vessel anymore.”

Hope massaged her fingers, lowering his gaze to look at them instead of her. “Aren't I?” he said softy, working her knuckles with his fingertips. “Look at me, Light. Do I look different to you? Do any of us? Yes, my body was crushed into dust, but who's to say it didn't simply get transferred along with my soul to reform here? Bhunivelze intended to have this body. He put too much work into it to just scrap it on a whim.”

“But you're an adult,” she protested, her eyebrows furrowing. “Bhunivelze wanted a child. An innocent.”

Hope couldn't stop himself from scowling slightly. “Bhunivelze assumes too much,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on Lightning's hand. Out loud, he said, “I doubt he ever intended to remain a child. Can you really see him being satisfied steering around an adolescent boy? A guy who can't refer to himself without tacking on glowing epithets like _almighty_ and _divine_?

Lightning breathed out a short chuckle at this and Hope cracked a smile. “You make a fair point,” she conceded, her eyes softening. “You're a pretty kid, Hope, but a small white boy from the suburbs doesn't make the most commanding image.” More seriously, she said, “So these cultists believe they can kick you out and replace you with God. What do you think? Is it possible?”

Hope's expression turned grave. “I want to say no. When I first heard what their plan was, I immediately brushed it off as foolishness,” he told her honestly. “Bhunivelze is gone. He's trapped somewhere no man should be able to reach him. That's what I believe.” He stopped massaging Lightning's hand and instead held it in both of his. “But I have no proof,” he admitted. He looked into her eyes and with full sincerity told her, “I wish I could tell you that it's impossible, but I just don't know.”


End file.
